


Til There Was You

by HartwinMakethMan



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: AU canon divergent, Alternate Ending, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:32:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4706159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HartwinMakethMan/pseuds/HartwinMakethMan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsman-- in a world where you see your whole life in monochrome, until you touch your soulmate for the first time. Charlie and Eggsy hate each other from the moment they lay eyes on each other, until they're finally forced to physical contact in Kingsman training. </p>
<p>THIS DEVIATES FROM CANON. A LOT. (but not, like, TOO MUCH, you know)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Til There Was You

The first time Charlie laid eyes on  _Eggy_ Unwin, he felt a strange pull in his gut. He automatically knew this chav would be trouble, unable to take his eyes off of him for a long moment, only snapping out of it when Digby elbowed him in the ribs. Charlie covered his staring with some quip about how he must be from the Kingsman “Outreach Program for Poor, Unfortunate Thugs”. It made the other boy snort with laughter, and the two of them shot Eggsy matching glances across the dormitory– however, looking back, Charlie supposed his own gaze might have been a bit more…  _wandering_  than his friend’s was.

Eggsy, while clearly a bit gritty and his clothes being fucking awful, was pretty damn fit under that SnapBack and nasty jacket. His hair was light– at least, lighter than whatever Charlie’s was– and his eyes might have been brown or something, since they looked darker to him, but the shadow of his lashes might have provided that effect. Charlie wasn’t sure why he was so bloody fascinated with finding out what this boy  _really_  looked like, and he practically jolted when he realized what he was doing. He turned away, mentally shaking himself.

He made a show with the boys, trying to keep up an appearance for Rufus and Digby– who knew him vaguely from their school days, and expected him to. They harassed Eggsy with cocky smirks that Charlie hoped would  establish his place above this pretty little chav. Or, simply, his place at the top of the group. He had to succeed, and some trouble-making thug, no matter how plush his lips were and how his smirk flickered heat in Charlie’s stomach, would not get in the way of his becoming the next Kingsman.

_Eggy_ didn’t back down an inch, however, rolling his eyes at Charlie’s snark and giving the attitude right back. Roxy– the pretty bird next to him– snickered quietly at Eggsy’s “Secret Sauce” comment, and Charlie felt himself torn between the little flip in his gut at the suggestive hand gesture, and the nearly completely unfounded  _possessiveness_ he felt over Eggsy when Roxy so much as looked at him– the taller boy fought down the heat in his cheeks, sneering at the two of them.    

As they all got ready for bed that night, Charlie kept his gaze purposely as far from the chav in the corner as bloody possible. He talked to Rufus and Digby, and tried to keep his voice level when he caught sight of Eggsy stripping off his shirt out of the corner of his eye, or when he talked to Roxy, which made Charlie’s throat go stupidly dry with irrational jealousy.

When the dorm suddenly began filling with water, and Eggsy didn’t join them at the toilets in favor of going to the  _fucking door_ , Charlie could’ve screamed at him, wanted to tug him down and force the tube into his mouth, because seriously? The bloody door? Anxiety fluttered and clawed in his chest– for reasons he not only didn’t have time for, but just didn’t want to know– while watching the other boy swim haplessly around the room. More time passed, and Charlie knew that by now Eggsy should have run out of breath, and was about to offer his own air tube despite himself (anything to soothe the desperate need to get this near-complete stranger out of harm’s way) only for Eggsy to swim right over their heads and attach himself to the mirror, punching his own reflection.

The muscles in his back rippled and tensed with the repeated action, and Charlie should have been confused like everyone else, he should have been wondering what the fuck was going on with this kid, not sucking around his breathing tube and watching this rough, totally cut guy and his stupidly beautiful back muscles while fighting the hard on in his pajamas.

When the glass shattered and they fell, sides heaving for air and looking like a bunch of soaked puppies, Charlie couldn’t help but look at the way Eggsy wiped his hand down his face and spit out a little water, chest pumping up and down with deep breaths.

Charlie fought down the urge to touch, to reach out and make sure he was okay, gently brush the short, wet hair off of Eggsy’s forehead and kiss the water droplets off that jawline–  _whoa_.

He mentally shook himself again, and made some half-assed comment about Eggsy’s assumed experience with two way mirrors– well, just  _look_ at the kid, it was pretty bloody obvious– barely listening as Merlin scolded them all for their lack of teamwork.

Charlie tried to blame the pull in his gut on the limp body of that poor girl, Amelia, that he’d been too focused on Eggsy to look out for. He bit his lip against the deep-seated  _need_ for him to get closer to where Eggsy stood in front of him, and swallowed around the half a hope that one day he could see in color, just to know for sure what Eggsy Unwin looked like.

—————

The idea of  _soulmates_  and  _seeing in color_ were things Charlie had discarded for the longest time. His parents were not soulmates– and so what if they were distant, they did what they had to do for their bloodlines, and they were  _fucking fine_ , okay? Charlie didn’t need some fairytale, he didn’t want some bullshit kid’s story to run his ideas of “Love” and all that. Sure, it was a cute thought, if you were into that, but even when Madame– his childhood nanny– had first explained the concept to him, he’d shaken his little, seven year old head of curls and told her that that would never be him.

Besides, his parents weren’t soulmates– according to whoever the expert was on this, it was nearly impossible for a child of non-soulmates to find one of their own.

He was, even now, still worrying Madame at every turn with his ridiculousness, but he remembered her seeming so genuinely sad every time he mentioned his distain for the soulmate phenomenon.

The next morning, they’re taken out on the grounds and instructed to pick a puppy from the wall of cages on the lawn. They ended up standing in a line on the grounds, leashes in hand, and Charlie and his German Shepard ended up– of course– right fucking next to Eggsy and whatever little creature was sitting at his feet. A pug, apparently. The only thing that distracted him from the itch that came up under his skin when the other boy was anywhere even remotely close to him was the fact that Eggsy was actually dense enough to think it was a bloody bulldog.

Charlie ignored that that was actually completely adorable. Eggsy was stupid, completely uneducated, and beneath everyone else there.

But, sitting in their lessons, Eggsy proved him wrong in less than ten minutes.  

And then, he ended up sitting in class after class with “Kingsman’s Charity Case”. That was actually Digby’s name for him, but it was blamed on Charlie anyway, and he didn’t care as long as it kept those glaring eyes at a safe distance. He did not want to understand what his attraction to Eggsy was– this weird, physical tug in his bones to just be  _close_ to someone, for once in his bloody life. Needless to say, it was killing him. Sometimes, he could catch a whiff of Eggsy’s cheap, drugstore deodorant as he passed by Charlie to get to his seat during their language lessons. It was maddening, and Charlie felt like he was losing his mind. Every little thing about this damn kid was burning in his chest, fighting the reflexive urge he had to reach out and  _touch_ – NO.

Touch was something Charlie did sparingly at most, still terrified– no matter what the expert said– while simultaneously praying for just a fucking  _hint_ of color. To touch Eggsy Unwin was inviting disaster. Even in his senseless fucking through Eton, Charlie was so bloody careful about touching, skirting every bloke he took home until he was  _sure_ that this one wasn’t going to spark colors or even  _feelings_ in him. Charlie didn’t have time for that.

Sometimes, he’d meet those eyes, though, and his breath would catch desperately in his throat. He would swallow hard and look away, trying to hide the strange, misplaced feeling of something light and wonderful in his chest cavity by burying it under a cocky stare or judging sneer. Charlie would make a particularly scathing comment for those instances, shrouding himself deeper in his defensive layers of prickly attitude. No one could say that Charlie Hesketh didn’t know how to drive someone away. The dark loneliness that that brought bubbling up formed a dense stone that sank in his stomach. He didn’t like to remember how cold he was.

“Oi, Charlie” Rufus gave him a smack on the shoulder, and Charlie startled out of his thoughts to see that his fellow cadets were filtering out of the room. Rufus stood beside him, looking a trifle concerned. Charlie hated concern– what was he supposed to fucking  _do with it_? Someone else’s worry didn’t make your life any easier. A swell of irritation bit into the boy’s stomach, but he swallowed against it, pulling himself out of his head and standing, walking out of the converted parlor/classroom they received lessons in.

“What’s happening?” He asked his tentatively named  _friend_  (Charlie might prefer the term ally). Rufus shot him a look and scoffed.

“Fuck, you really were out of it– we’re headed to the training gym. Merlin’s talking about trying  _something new_.” Rufus shook his head, looking downright afraid. Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Oh please– he already tried to fucking drown us– what’s he going to do now?”

—————

It turned out there was always something new Merlin could do to torture him, even if he didn’t know he was doing it.

They filed into the gym. It had high ceilings and long windows with thin sills. The afternoon sunlight streamed in. The entire floor was covered in mats, and the space was littered with levels and equipment. A high wall of guns and daggers and nunchuks and some things Charlie didn’t even recognize, lined the far wall. Charlie came to stand on the far end, immediately noting that Eggsy was just three people to the left of him. He repressed a shudder and tried to focus on what Merlin had in store for them.

“By now, I assume you’ve all gathered that you are here for a reason– Some sort of skill or past experience has made you eligible in the eyes of the agent that chose you. This is an exercise more for me than for you– show me what you are capable of.” He gestured to the room with the arm that wasn’t gripping onto his precious clipboard. “What do you consider your greatest asset in this competition? If it isn’t something that can be shown here, simply state it.” The Scotsman paused, scanning up and down the group of cadets, all surveying the room for where their talent might lie in the the cavernous space. “Who’s first?”

There was the awkward scramble of them all looking for the first victim, wondering if they should step forward. The cadets all just stood there for a second, and Charlie hated the stupid uncertainty on their faces, rolling his eyes and taking a step forward.

Just as Eggsy did. They stared each other down for a second, and it was only Charlie’s pride that kept his eyes locked on the other boy. With Eggsy’s charcoal gray gaze on him, he felt like his body was warming itself from the inside out, a tingling feeling radiated through his veins and his heart might have stuttered a bit, but Charlie would die before he admitted to it. He ignored how his mind was begging him to touch the shorter boy, just walk over and run a hand through that soft-looking hair. It shone in the sunlight, even though Charlie had no clue what color it was, and he  _needed to know_ –

“Well? Go on,  _Eggy_ – and, you should know: it’s not really classified as a talent to suck someone off in an alley.” he hoped that the heat in his cheeks wasn’t a visible flush, relief washing over him as Rufus, Digby, and even the quiet kid– Hugo– snickered at the comment. Merlin only twitched, and Roxy rolled her eyes with a biting glare at him. Eggsy, however, only smirked, and the look sent shivers of heat pooling in Charlie’s gut.

“Oh, poor Charlie– you’ve clearly never been sucked off proper.” he tossed the remark over his shoulder, stepping further into the sunlight of the mats and surveying the room as his comment sank in and silence reigned. Charlie swallowed hard, but his throat was bone dry, and he watched with rapt attention as the other boy shot Roxy a wink. The jealousy that bloomed in his veins then was almost impossible to hide, and he bit down, bloody  _hard_  on the inside of his cheek.

Eggsy rolled his shoulders a couple times, and turned his attention to Merlin.

“So– do I tell you wha’ it is, or what?” Merlin nodded, clipboard at the ready. “14 years of formal gymnastics training, nearly Olympic.” He sounded so proud that Charlie almost wanted to cheer him on, but there was a sadness in his voice when he said it made his heart sink in his chest, and he forgot entirely about anything that wasn’t how he could make Eggsy happy again–

Charlie caught himself there, and nearly threw up at the sudden terror that this kid had  _power over him_. He had no control– Eggsy was too perfect and beautiful and he should want for absolutely  _nothing_ – oh  _shit_.

“Free run parkour is prob'ly my best asset.”

Merlin nodded, jotting it down in his notes, gesturing for Eggsy to begin.

No one could take their eyes off him the moment he started, running straight ahead, only to jump up and run up the  _fucking wall_ , getting a handhold on the thin window sill and catapulting himself up to stand on the strip of a ledge, immediately jumping from it to grip the closest support beam, twirling around it for moment– mesmerizing and graceful (Oh  _shut up_ )– and climbing it all the way up to the system of metal beams across the ceiling. He used them like monkey bars at a park, flipping and twisting and flying through the air like Tarzan. Every eye in the room was staring up at him, getting stiff necks, a few of them gaping, but Charlie locked his jaw, grinding his teeth against the pounding blood in his ears.

Eggsy was so fucking  _flexible_.

Every muscle seemed to have a mind of it’s own, but all of them worked together with lightning fast teamwork. He looked almost like he was dancing as he twirled around another support pole on the other side of the room, and Charlie shoved the thought out of his mind. Halfway down, Eggsy shoved himself off the wall behind him, flying forward and hitting the mats in a perfectly executed, nearly  _silent_ somersault. He landed back at Merlin’s side, barely having broken a sweat.

Rufus almost started  _clapping_. Everyone stood in shocked silence, staring at the unassuming little chav, proud smirk on his face as he tipped an imaginary fucking hat at Merlin and rejoined Roxy in the line of cadets.

Then Merlin turned his eyes to Charlie, and the other boy scrambled for a second, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing, before he slapped on his most haughty, proud expression, despite knowing he was completely incapable of measuring up to Eggsy’s  _display_. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat, anyway, meeting the Scotsman’s cold eyes.

“2 years in Her Majesty’s Royal Air Force– the youngest fighter pilot in a century. I can navigate through anything, and shave off half the flight time.” He neglected to mention his atrocious sense of direction when he was on land. He was so at home in the air, he didn’t know east from west on the ground. Merlin nodded approvingly, jotting it down as Charlie stepped back into line, covertly releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Roxy went next, proving herself with nearly every gun and dagger on the far wall, throwing knives with deadly accuracy across the entire length of the room, shooting moving targets, and showing off her sparring skills. She was apparently a blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do, Kung Fu, and Kav Magra. Charlie made a note to avoid sparring her at all costs.

No one else was able to measure up to Eggsy, not even in the slightest.

—————

After that catastrophe, Merlin released them for the day. Charlie could barely breathe for fear of picking up Eggsy’s intoxicating scent, or embarrassing himself by speaking, or moving closer to him, or fucking  _throwing himself at him_ , because he was seriously getting concerned about his own self control.

They all headed back to the dorms, Charlie feeling heavy, and positively flabbergasted, still thinking about Eggsy twisting around the support poles of the training gym…. propelling himself around in one stunningly fluid motion. It was effortlessly graceful, useful, badass,  _fucking sexy_ –

“Oi, did you see that chav swinging around the gym?” Digby sniggered, he and Rufus ambling along right in front of Charlie.

“Fucking thug thinks he belongs here… He’s just a giant, steamy shit that won’t flush, yeah?–” Rufus snarked back, and Charlie tried to tamp down the indignant rage bubbling up in him on Eggsy’s behalf. What the fuck was happening to him? He hated Unwin– he  _wanted so badly_ to hate Unwin. “Probably learned that fucking trick by running from the coppers. Eh, Charlie?” The two boys turned and looked eagerly back at him, practically begging for his approval.

And Charlie shocked all three of them by speeding up and walking ahead of his “friends”, resolutely not opening his mouth.

“Charlie?” He heard Rufus call out to him, and he turned around, not even bothering to gauge the future embarrassment that speaking was about to cause.

“What? His skill was better than either of yours.” Their mouths dropped open, Digby sputtered a little, and normally it would have been satisfying. But Charlie couldn’t be bothered, turning around and walking away, ignoring how they called out to him.  

Rufus and Digby were looking to him to figure out what to do next, but all Charlie wanted to do was be  _completely alone_. He lost them somewhere between the dorms and the maze of corridors in the training wing of HQ.

The moment of relief broke over him like a wave as he shut some random metal door behind himself, looking around to find that he was in some sort of ammunition storage closet, dimly lit and surrounded by Kingsman-issued guns and bullets. The comfort of silence didn’t last though, fading into a cavernous emptiness. Charlie sighed heavily, and walked to the far wall by the corner, leaning against the cool surface. The feeling of absolute loneliness wasn’t unfamiliar, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. The crushing sensation of the quiet around him was too well known, and the black and gray of the dim room he found himself in was infuriating, only serving to remind him that he was  _truly alone_ – no soulmate, no  _potential_ soulmate, no real friends, no real family. What wasn’t familiar was the suffocating longing he felt then, closing his eyes and seeing Eggsy’s smirk, those piercing eyes looking up at him from on his knees in his mind’s eye. It was maddening and beautiful and Charlie  _needed_ to see if his lips were anything other than a bizarrely inviting shade of gray, if his hair caught the sunlight like spun gold the way he imagined it would, and how he looked with a genuine  _smile_  on his face. The way he smiled at Roxy or that stupid little dog.

Jealousy curled in his gut, and Charlie growled, slapping his hands over his eyes and sliding down the wall like some melodramatic child. Madame would flick him behind the ear right then and call him repressed and pitiful, her heavy french accent blurring the lines between the harsh words and her fondness for him. He missed her.

He took a long moment on the floor, hands over his eyes, trying to forget the black and white around him, only to see the image of Eggsy behind his eyelids. It was nothing short of completely hopeless, and he was so absorbed in his conflicting logic and instincts that he didn’t hear the door open and close, or the patter of four little feet on the floor.

“Charlie?” the lowbrow accent wrapped around him like a balm, but the surprise of a new voice made him nearly jump out of his skin. Oh  _fuck_.

Eggsy was walking slowly toward him like he was a skittish horse, looking so fucking  _concerned_  and damnit, he’d never  _hated_ that expression so much. Irritation dug itself into the already present fear of the other boy coming any closer. Charlie wouldn’t be able to control himself, no way. Eggsy shouldn’t be here.      

“Go away,  _Eggy_.” he put as much venom behind the words as he could, dropping his head back into his hands and curling himself closer to the wall. It had the desired effect, and Eggsy stopped walking, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes instead. Charlie breathed an internal sigh of relief, even though his mind was screaming for him to beckon Eggsy to his side, please  _please, just be close to somebody_ –

The pug puppy had less reservations, waddling right up to Charlie’s leg and whining into his pant leg. Charlie did not mind dogs in the slightest, despite his mother claiming for all his childhood that they were dirty, foul little creatures with no place in civilized life outside of the hunt. Right then, however, panic gripped him at the thought of being touched– by  _anything at all_ – and he grabbed the little dog by the scruff and practically tossed him back in Eggsy’s general direction. The other boy made an indignant sound, but Charlie couldn’t really find it in himself to care. At least, that was what he told himself as the tug in his bones got unbearably strong.

“Y’ know, you’re a right prick, ‘kay?” Eggsy grumbled, biting out the words, but something about it was half hearted to Charlie’s ears. Eggsy’s voice got a little softer after that. “What’re you even doin’ ere?”

What  _was_  he doing here? Charlie grasped at straws, anything but say “trying to escape this ridiculous attraction I have to you” or “just trying to get some time to be bloody alone, and forget about you and your stupid face”. They sounded a bit childish.

He cleared his throat and grunted out “Headache.”

“Oh– Well, d'you need to go to the infirmary? I was jus’ wanderin’ and I found it, if you need help–”

“I’m  _fine_ ” he hissed, his heart melting that Eggsy was being so nice and absolutely hating himself for being so fucking callous. But the need to be alone, and the need to be with  _him_  were conflicting like oil and water– actually giving him a headache.

He thought maybe he had pissed Eggsy off enough to make him leave, until he heard a sigh, and oh shit, Eggsy was moving again. Charlie was hyper aware of every step the other boy took, sitting down cross legged in front of him, his dog in his lap.  _So fucking close_. Charlie could smell that cheap deodorant and it was like petting a cat backwards– spikes and tingles of what was almost pain prickled in his fingertips, and Charlie peeked out from behind his hands.

He looked so perfectly beautiful, Charlie couldn’t breathe. The dull monotony of the shades of gray made him burn with frustration because Eggsy  _deserved_ to be in full color. Charlie bit his lip hard, tasting a tinge of blood.

Finally, he had to break the silence, tension building between them like preparing for a rocket launch.

“ _What_ do you  _want_?” he did all he could to keep his voice biting and cold, but it still sounded like a plea to Charlie’s ears.

“I want to know what your fucking problem is, bruv. You fuckin’  hate me, you and the silver spoon brigade– until your friends have their fun without you.  _Then_  you tell 'em to back up.” Charlie’s heart clenches in his chest and Eggsy knows he’s hit a nerve, because he smirks that sexy smirk of his and raises his eyebrow– it’s got a little chip in it, Charlie noticed. There was a silver line of a scar through it, and he felt the impossible urge to kiss it–

Charlie bit his lip again.

“Yeah. I know 'bout your little moment– you actually  _defended me_. So, what’s the fuckin’ deal? I mean– mate, make up your bloody mind.” Charlie dug his nails into his palms, only loosening his grip when Eggsy backed up and stood, his pug stumbling around his feet. And Charlie remembered that he probably needed to walk Camus. But he couldn’t bring himself to stand, frozen in his corner, not trusting himself to be free to move so close to Eggsy.

“Get the fuck out, Unwin.” He growled, not answering his question. Eggsy got the gist of it, though, looking hurt– maybe disappointed?– for a fraction of a second before it was replaced with careful nonchalance. But the damage was done. Charlie felt his heart shatter just glimpsing that flash of pain that he had caused. He swallowed the sudden need to reach out and pull the other boy to his chest, waiting for the footsteps to reach the door before he shifted, stiff and sore, from where he stood.

Grabbing his own little puppy from the dorms and snapping his leash into place, Charlie ignored the looks that Rufus and Digby and even Roxy– what did he do to her?– were shooting his way as he disappeared back out the door and out to the grounds.

The grounds at HQ reminded him of home, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. But, it was familiar, and comfortable. For the first time in his life, however, he couldn’t help but think that it would be so much better if he knew the shades of green in the leaves, or the blue backdrop of the sky. The sun should be yellow– he and Madame used to pass hours when he was a child, with her describing the colors of the landscape to him– but it was just the lightest point of gray in the clear, cloudless expanse of sky. It was warm, nonetheless, and Charlie  led the stumbling little dog through the garden path, up to a point of shade under a big tree with a view of the rose gardens to his left, and the woods far off to his right.

Finally able to feel the breeze, breathe a bit more freely, fucking  _relax_ , Charlie let Camus off his leash, tossing a stick and training the little dog to fetch and bring it back. Camus was hopelessly confused for the first few throws, but quickly caught on.

The contented, therapeutic calm that came with the presence of a puppy was a more than welcome release, and Charlie let himself truly smile for the first time in what had to have been weeks. Camus was so small and fluffy and hopelessly sweet, but top heavy and clumsy as  _fuck_. Trying to lift sticks bigger than he was, tripping over his feet, falling flat on his sweet little face in the grass. Charlie would laugh, picking up the little animal by the scruff and fondly scratching at the velvet ears.

The two worked and played in a pleasantly mindless game of fetch, Charlie occasionally needing to work to pry the stick out of the tiny jaws. It could have lasted forever for all Charlie cared, loving the pure absence of thought. There were no looming parents, no expectations, no handsome chav boys with light hair and smirking lips…

Somehow, he wanted Eggsy here with him, though. The thought made his stomach flip, and that pull, right behind his navel, was back. Charlie groaned, dropping his head back into his hands, his heart felt tight in his chest and his brain was screaming at him again, telling him that Eggsy was a dirty thug, beneath him, un _worthy_  of Charlie.

His brain sounded mysteriously like his parents then.

A whine was what brought him to look up from the blissful darkness of his hands, staring right into the big, dewy eyes of his puppy, who had dropped his stick in favor of climbing his way into Charlie’s lap. He felt the tension in him fade, petting the soft fur, not really smiling, though, until there was a wet tongue swiping up his cheek. Charlie gasped with the shock and vague sense of disgust– his brain sounded like his mother again, telling him dogs’ mouths were filthy, and a true gentleman didn’t stoop so low– that faded into laughter as the puppy got more excited, tickling Charlie with his paws and leaping up into his face. Camus managed rather easily to wrestle Charlie onto his back with the force of his little body.

His sides hurt from laughing, and he got a hand in the little dog’s scruff, pulling him off and shifting up to sit. Catching his breath, he couldn’t stop beaming as he wagged a finger and told the dog “No more licking,  _no more licking_ ” over and over again, like the big, dark eyes staring back with a cock eyed look were actually processing more than his owner’s grin.

He shook his head, setting Camus back in the grass, wiping a hand down his slobbery face, when he felt a pull in his gut– and saw something in the corner of his eye. Turning slowly, part of him knowing just what was coming, Charlie looked over.

Eggsy and Roxy, leashes of their own dogs in hand, had stopped on the garden path to watch him get attacked. How long had they been there? Charlie felt a blush color his cheeks as the remainder of his smile faded, watching Eggsy watch him.

He looked awestruck. It was the only way Charlie could think to describe it. Eggsy’s sinfully pretty gray lips were parted slightly, he was slack jawed and his eyes sparkled, even from the distance. The corners of his mouth were pulled up in an absent-minded smile– not a smirk, the hint of a  _real smile_. The sun suddenly felt warmer, even though it was setting behind him, and Charlie could have sworn that the pull stopped when their eyes met. It was replaced with just a radiating heat– comfortable and calm, like still water, or mist catching the sunlight in summertime– that filled him like a balm. He was calm and content, even more so than he had been with Camus. And Eggsy felt whatever it was too. He had to, as Roxy gave his arm a tug and he startled out of their moment of peace. The pull was back, and it almost hurt now that he knew what he could have instead. Roxy looked amused as she pulled her friend down the path, and Charlie almost wanted to call out to them, tell them to come back.

That night, he returned to the dorms and called Eggsy a convict and a charity case, laughing with Rufus and Digby. It burned like bile in his throat, but he couldn’t let anyone know. This couldn’t exist– _They_ couldn’t exist. Not together. And Eggsy needed to know that as much as Charlie couldn’t fucking forget it.

In the middle of the night, he and the boys drenched Eggsy and his pug with a bucket of freezing water while he slept.

The violent anger in the other boy’s eyes had a touch of betrayal as Roxy held him back, and Charlie just plastered on his trademark haughty smirk while Eggsy called him a dick and she talked him down. Her gaze was biting and fiery, and Charlie couldn’t help but feel the familiar tingle envy at the way she was able to touch Eggsy, and have his trust.

He walked away with the mysterious pull in him trying to eat him alive, his insides feeling entirely empty. Eggsy was soaked and shivering, his body defined by the cling of the water to his skin. Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to sleep.


End file.
